


With Intent

by taylorgibbs



Category: NCIS
Genre: Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-25 03:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorgibbs/pseuds/taylorgibbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When someone attacks the team, Tony is suspicious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Intent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spoonyriffic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=spoonyriffic).



> Thanks to tejas for the beta  
> Written for the Tibbs Spookathon based on Spoonyriffic's prompt. Spoony, I hope you like this! The prompt will be at the end of the fic.

Gibbs awoke to the realization that he was choking Tony to death. He wrenched himself away, panting loudly and wondering what the hell had caused this. It wasn’t a nightmare, but what the hell was it?

“You okay?” Gibbs asked, looking at his wild-eyed lover. He wanted to touch Tony, but he didn’t dare right now. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself and he was shaking like hell. Gibbs clenched the sheet in both hands, trying to get his breathing calmed so that he could help Tony.

“Yeah,” Tony rasped, rubbing his throat. “You okay, Jethro?”

Gibbs nodded, gulping in air. His entire body was shaking, and he didn’t know why.

“Nightmare?” Tony asked, resting a gentle hand on Gibbs’ shoulder. Gibbs flinched, his immediate instinct to pull away.

“Guess so,” he muttered, but it wasn’t, and he knew it. Something twisted in his gut, something unfamiliar and dark, and a metallic taste flooded his mouth. He stumbled into the bathroom, running some water and rinsing his mouth out. Gibbs knew that he had to get back to Tony, but he paused for a second, staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes flashed something unfamiliar, and Gibbs shivered.

Something was off, and his gut knew it. It was screaming. Gibbs glanced up at the clock in the bathroom, sighing. Only two hundred, definitely nowhere near time to get up, and there was no way he’d get right back to bed.

“Get back to sleep, Tony,” he called over his shoulder, even though he knew his lover wouldn’t listen. Tony was as stubborn as Gibbs was, and he was worried. Gibbs could see the concern shining in Tony’s eyes.

He flipped the shower on, adjusting the temperature mechanically. When had things gotten so screwed up? As the water started warming, Gibbs leaned against the counter, trying to pinpoint when everything had gotten so screwed up. His gut hadn’t felt right for a while now, for days, maybe even more than a week.

He’d gotten violently sick at a crime scene, heaving his guts up just after they found the body of Petty Officer Gordon. Gibbs had leaned over the body and had felt himself wanting to vomit all of a sudden. He’d barely lurched away before he’d lost his lunch, Ducky’s sharp retort fading away to genuine concern. That had been the beginning.

Gibbs shook his head slowly, staring at his reflection. He looked a little gaunt, as if he hadn’t been eating enough, as if he had been existing on coffee and adrenaline for too long. When was the last meal he’d eaten?

Gibbs had to think about that…and that worried him. Pizza! It had been pizza at Tony’s desk at about sixteen hundred today—yesterday. He’d snagged a couple of slices and washed it down with lukewarm coffee. He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. Maybe he needed to go down and make them some toast—and tea. Or the bite of vodka, that would put him to sleep.

Vodka? Gibbs stared at himself wide-eyed and headslapped himself hard. He’d always hated vodka, but being in Russia for fourteen months had turned his hatred to loathing. What the hell was wrong with him?

He avoided his reflection and jumped into the shower, scrubbing skin that didn’t really need it, resting his arms against the tile wall and trying to forget the twisting unease running through him. And the sneaking suspicion that Tony wasn’t entirely safe in his presence.

~*~

Hours later, he watched silently as Gibbs and Tony slept. Despite the fact that Gibbs had choked Tony, the fool was twined around Gibbs, using the other man as if he was a giant teddy bear, burying his face against the still-damp skin of Gibbs’ shoulder. He growled. Gibbs had stopped him before he’d made Gibbs suffer, before he’d taken away what Gibbs needed the most.

If Gibbs wanted to play it that way, he would bide his time, make his move when Gibbs would least expect it. And when Tony DiNozzo was a rotten corpse, he’d have his way. He’d feed off Gibbs’ suffering. And then, he’d be strong again, able to reclaim what those damn NCIS agents had stolen from him.

He’d succeed, and they’d never know what hit them.

With a silent chuckle known only to him, he closed the door on the sleeping men. His time would come, and he could hardly wait.

~*~

Tony awoke quickly, snapping to awareness, his heart racing. He wasn’t able to identify what had spooked him, but nothing seemed out of sorts. Gibbs was sleeping soundly and Tony snuggled in tight—as usual. As if they hadn’t awoken to Gibbs choking him.

Like most men who had tasted danger, Gibbs was no stranger to nightmares. Sometimes they were mild, and other times they were bad—really bad. In the three years they’d been together, Tony’d seen Gibbs through bad and mild, through the shaking panic of a nightmare-cum-flashback, one that would leave Gibbs emotionally and physically wrung out, existing on coffee, bourbon, and bad Chinese takeout until he worked through it, sometimes days later.

Tony knew to stay away when Gibbs dealing with one of those. It was better to watch over him at a distance. It was the most Gibbs would permit, and he and Tony were comfortable enough in their relationship that Tony knew when to move forward and when to pull back.

Tony had also seen Gibbs through the milder nightmares, the ones his lover was able to shake off after a cup of coffee, ones Gibbs would talk through with Tony in the quiet of night.

But he’d never seen Gibbs deliberately strike out like this before. He’d dodged his share of flailing limbs, but this was different. Gibbs had come after Tony with intent. And the look in his eyes had chilled Tony to the bone.

He reached over, tugging the comforter around his shoulders, and trying to ignore the fact that he was chilled from the inside out and not vice versa.

~*~

Tony hated when things were quiet at work. It wasn’t that he wanted dead petty officers to be scattered all over Rock Creek Park, but he hated not having much to do. This afternoon, he was entertaining himself by shooting wads of paper into the trash cans, both Kate and McGee rolling their eyes at him.

Gibbs had gone out for lunch and hadn’t come back, muttering something about a security briefing downtown. Sometimes various DOD agencies had working lunches, and Tony knew as much as Gibbs hated the politics game, he played it, to please Director Morrow.

It was a quiet afternoon. Ducky and Palmer were down in Autopsy, Abby was processing fibers from one of Paula’s crime scenes, and he, McGee and Kate were stuck here at the Yard. Tony glanced at the calendar and nodded, an idea coming to him. As senior agent, he could oversee weapons training. He wouldn’t be as mean as Gibbs—wouldn’t force them to use hats or PDAs to better their aim. But Tony could encourage them.

He sent Gibbs an email, knowing the other man wasn’t likely to read it, scribbled a note and attached it to Gibbs’ computer monitor, and stood up, giving first Kate, and then McGee, a bright grin. “Grab your gear.”

It felt nice to say that, even though McGee started to stand and then froze, looking at Tony in confusion. Kate just sat at her desk, lightly smirking.

“What are we— Wait, we didn’t get a call.” McGee’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re both due for weapons training. I can sign off on your range time. Come on. Beats the heck out of sitting here bored.”

Kate reached into her desk, her expression a little confused. But she apparently read honesty in Tony’s expression and gave McGee a little shrug.

“Come on,” Tony repeated, gathering his own weapon. He could train right alongside them, watch Kate and McGee and then have them watch him. It’d be fine and they’d have their phones with them, in case Gibbs called.

They made their way to the range and gathered ear protection. One of them would step back a little in case cell phones rang. That way, they’d be able to hear if Gibbs called. Tony cited senior-agent first choice and emptied his clip in a perfect grouping of head shots. He couldn’t resist a fistpump, and didn’t react when Kate rolled her eyes.

McGee was up next, and he shot tentatively. Tony hung back as Kate helped McGee to fix his stance and smiled as she talked about courage and bracing and aim. It was good that they were taking turns with McGee, helping him train

Kate stepped forward, slipping her ear protection on and steadying her gun. Tony winced inwardly when she didn’t check her gun over first. She knew better, you always checked your gun. But Tony knew he’d be told off if he said as much, so he just stood five paces back, waiting and silently egging her on. She might have been trained y the Secret Service, but he was a way better shot. He’d proved it again and again.

She took aim, squinting, and then…

“KATE!” Tony raced forward, closing the distance between them in a few long steps. She was on the ground, cradling her hand, yelling out, though Tony couldn’t work out if it was in pain or anger.

“Let me see!” Tony yelled, patience fracturing. Blood dripped down and Kate reached up, wiping it away. “McGee, grab her weapon.”

Tim stood still for a moment, then jumped into action, It was clear that her gun had jammed—Tony winced, realizing he should have said something.

“How bad is it?” he asked, motioning to her hand. “Gonna get ya to Ducky, Kate,” Tony hauled her to her feet, steadying her as she held her hand to her chest.

“Something might be broken,” she said through gritted teeth. Yep, she was angry, but she was in pain, too. He glanced up, not quite sure why, and thought he saw a flash of a smile, the gleam of silver hair. But what the hell would Gibbs be doing watching while one of his agents was hurt?

Another chill ran through Tony. Was it Gibbs, or was he imagining it? And what the hell was going on? His hand returned to his throat and he rubbed at the bruise his fully-buttoned collar hid.

~*~

Three hours later, Tony finally walked back into the squad room, and Gibbs arched a brow at him. Gibbs had come back when Ducky was X-raying Kate’s hand, and he’d been worried and concerned—and outraged when Abby determined that Kate’s gun had been tampered with. He'd stalked and snarled through the exam, finally telling Tony to go with Kate to George Washington hospital. He’d left McGee with Abby to work on the case, and Tony presumed he’d been in the squad room the entire time, probably briefing the director, though Gibbs’ cheeks were flushed and a new cup of coffee sat on his desk.

“How was lunch?” he asked, hoping that Gibbs would give him the rundown on any new terror threats. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he’d seen Gibbs at the range, but he had no idea how to broach the subject.

“Lunch?” Gibbs asked, eyes narrowing, corners of his mouth turning down. “The hell’s that got to do with anything, DiNozzo.Where’s Kate?”

He’d brought Kate back to the Navy Yard—she’d insisted. “With Abby and McGee, trying to figure out who tampered with her gun. Boss…” he started, but trailed off. Was he really going to ask if Gibbs had been there, watching—smiling?

“We’re gonna figure it out and nail the bastard,” Gibbs said, in a tone just this side of a growl. That was the Gibbs Tony knew and loved and he did a mental fist pump. Maybe things weren’t as crazy as they seemed.

~*~

He stood in the shadows, watching as DiNozzo worried about the injury that had befallen the stupid woman. Neither of the men were aware of him, and he was able to keep his attention on both Gibbs and DiNozzo. He eyed the man critically, wondering what DiNozzo knew.

He had to be the last one to have tragedy hit him, when Gibbs was already reeling from the loss of McGee, Ducky, Abby, and that stupid assistant to the medical examiner. What was his name? Phillips? Peters? Palmer?

They would never expect him, never see him coming. It had been too easy to jam the gun. The others had more sophisticated accidents awaiting them. He wondered if Abby or McGee might die first, and tried to hide his chuckle.

He was too close to revealing himself. Just a few steps more and DiNozzo and Gibbs would see him, and everything would be lost. He had to be careful, had to bide his time.

And then they’d suffer.

Satisfaction racing through him, and anticipation making him shiver, he stepped further into the shadows and left the Navy Yard. He was done here—for now.

~*~

Gibbs was really looking forward to some time relaxing with DiNozzo tonight. Tony had one of those big TVs that he’d convinced Gibbs to put in their bedroom, and he would actually enjoy watching a movie with his lover for a change. Typically, Gibbs went to the basement and worked while Tony watched movies, but after a day of Gibbs’ gut screaming, he just wanted some R&R with his boy. Maybe that would push the unsettled feelings aside.

He’d sent Kate and McGee away at seventeen hundred on the dot. Kate had three broken bones in her hand, but she’d heal. It could have been much worse. It should never have happened. All afternoon, Gibbs had been torn between anger and concern. And worry. Things weren’t right and he didn’t know exactly why.

He arrived home right before Tony and ordered a pizza as his lover showered and changed. Gibbs slipped into an old Ohio State shirt, worn to softness from years of wearing. He slid on a pair of well worn jeans as well and settled on the bed, waiting for Tony.

Tony’s essence seeped into every fiber of the shirt, and usually wearing it comforted Gibbs But not tonight.

As Tony stepped out into the bedroom, naked and damp, Gibbs’ cell phone rang. Before he could answer it, Tony’s rang as well. Great, a case. This would screw up their night.

“Yeah, Gibbs.”

“G-g-g—“

“Abby?” His stomach clenched. He waved Tony—who was taking his own call—back into the bathroom so that Gibbs could hear Abby more clearly. “What is it?”

Gibbs was aware his voice was higher pitched than usual, but this was Abby! “What is it, Abbs?” he asked, grabbing a pair of deck shoes and jamming his feet into them.

“Car accident. I….Gibbs. I tried to stop, but… And she was on the bike and…”

“Shh, Abbs. Where are you? I’m coming to you.” We’re coming, he mentally amended, looking up as Tony rushed out of the bathroom and started tugging on clothes.

Abby gave him the address and Gibbs hung up, after she reassured him that she wasn’t hurt.

“You driving or me?” Tony asked. There was a haunted look in his eyes and a little shiver tore through Gibbs.

“Me. She’s okay, Tony. But she hit someone.”

“She?” Tony blanched—Gibbs had never seen him this grim before. “Jethro, please tell me you’re talking about Kate.”

“Kate?” Gibbs blinked a couple of times and then his gut clenched painfully. “No, Abby. Tell me.”

“McGee,” Tony replied, his green eyes wide and startled. “One of his bookshelves fell, pinned him. If Kate hadn’t been there to call the paramedics... Gibbs, what the hell is going on?”

“Someone’s targeting the team. His ass is mine!”

~*~

He watched as Gibbs and Tony tore out of Gibbs’ house like bats out of hell. It seemed two members of the team had come to a rather messy…conclusion. He’d have to see just how dire things were soon, but for right now, he had to avoid detection.

He hid as the men ran to their cars and peeled out, Gibbs going in one direction, and Tony in another. This was going to be a very fun night!

He let out a happy sigh, thrilled with the havoc he’d caused in a day. This was better than he could have ever imagined. Could tomorrow top this? He’d have to do what he could to rig up something shocking for the team

Shocking. That would be perfect.

Plan set it motion, he closed his eyes, preparing to rest. The destruction of Gibbs and his team was well underway.

~*~

Tony didn’t get home until almost oh two hundred. By the time he’d gotten to Silver Spring and McGee’s place, the paramedics had freed McGee, and he followed them to Washington Hospital Center, the closest trauma unit. McGee had been crushed under several hundred pounds of books, bookshelves, and records. He had a concussion and his breath sounds had been a concern.

McGee had been lucky. Two ribs were hairline fractured and he had a hell of a concussion, but it could have—should have—been much worse. They were keeping him for observation overnight. Tony’d passed the info on to Ducky, who was with Abby and Gibbs at GW hospital.

Kate had ridden to the hospital with Tony. He’d never seen her so quiet. She’d even allowed a couple of comforting big brotherly hugs. Three injuries to the team had shaken all of them up. Tony chattered endlessly, while Kate had just gotten solemn and more grim.

He walked into the dark house, sitting down on the ancient couch. Surely Gibbs and Ducky wouldn’t still be with Abby, would they? Tony flipped his phone open and hit the button for Gibbs, but before he answered, Tony hung up the phone.

He was way too unsettled to relax, so he drove to the Navy Yard. When he pulled into his spot, he was astounded to see Gibbs’ car there.

“Hey, Marv, where's Gibbs?” Tony asked the night security guard at the NCIS security checkpoint.

“Gibbs? Haven’t seen him. He here?”

“Maybe not.” Ignoring the questions he left in his wake, Tony pivoted around and headed out to the garage. He knew he’d seen Gibbs’ car out there, but why hadn’t Gibbs checked in with the guards?

“Hey! Gibbs!” Tony called out as he saw the figure hurrying toward the garage. Gibbs turned around and Tony swore he saw the flash of a smile and heard a snicker of laughter before the other man hopped in his car and drove home.

Things were getting stranger and more ominous every moment. What the hell was going on?

~*~

He watched as Gibbs let himself into the house. Even though it was almost three am, Gibbs carried a cup of coffee. Poor Gibbs was having a hard time, wasn’t he?

Things weren’t going quite according to plan—neither Abby nor McGee had died in the accidents he’d arranged. But they were both injured at the very least. He needed to get more details, more intel, as the agents called it.

Then he’d make his final stand and take down Gibbs’ second in command. And he wouldn’t fail this time. Even if only one was going to die, it would be the most important one to Gibbs.

He yawned and stretched. Today had been full of accomplishments and he couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow might bring.

~*~  
Gibbs pulled into his driveway and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. He couldn’t even remember driving home from the hospital. He was too exhausted and even coming to awareness at a 7-11 as he was getting coffee didn’t settle him down.

At least Abby was going to be okay—as was the woman she‘d hit, by some miracle. Abby was shocky and was on a mild sedative, and the woman she’d hit on her bicycle had a broken leg, but it could have been much worse. Abby had been home for a few hours now, tucked into bed. Ducky had offered to stay with her, and for some reason he couldn’t explain, Gibbs had agreed. He’d wanted to bring Abby back to his house, but at the last minute, he’d decided against it, without knowing why. This wasn’t like him, and he was getting a little concerned.

Witnesses and Abby had said that her brakes hadn’t worked and Gibbs had only needed to look at her roadster for a few minutes to know that her car had been tampered with. Kate, McGee, and Abby had been attacked, and he was on the lookout for anything—or anyone—who might cause his team harm. And with him not being as vigilant as he needed to be, through exhaustion or whatever was wrong with him, he was deeply worried.

At least McGee was safe in his hospital bed, Kate watching over him, broken hand and all. Ducky and Abby were together, and Gibbs had Ducky call Palmer several hours ago, warning him to be careful.

And Gibbs had spoken with Morrow, who had agreed to give the team some protection. Agents were on their way to Abby’s place now, as well as the hospital and McGee’s room. Even Palmer had an agent who should be in place outside his house now. Gibbs and Tony would have agents at his place tomorrow, but they should be okay for tonight.

Gibbs took a long sip of coffee and got out of the car. The lights were on, but Tony’s car wasn’t around. As he walked to the front door, a chill tore through him and he whirled around, pulling his gun out and scanning the neighborhood. Someone was watching; he knew it.

His gut knew it.

Gibbs walked inside and locked the door, something he rarely did. He flipped open his phone and saw that Tony had called, but just as he hit the button to dial the number, the wash of Tony’ headlights flashed in the living room. He strode to the door, unlocking it, but as soon as Tony was inside, he’d flip the lock again.

“McGee resting?” Gibbs asked the minute Tony walked in. His lover’s expression was dark, troubled.

“Yeah. Why were you at the Yard?” Tony asked, shouldering his way past Gibbs.

The Yard? Gibbs just stared at Tony for a long minute, taking a drag of his coffee. He could feel his hand shaking. “I wasn’t—“

“Bullshit, Jethro!” Tony chest bumped Gibbs, shoving him against the wall—hard. “I saw you. Your car. You were at the Navy Yard instead of coming home. I want to know why.”

Gibbs held Tony’s gaze, just staring into his lover’s eyes. He had no idea what emotions he was telegraphing. He wanted to bluster back, to aggressively push his way through this, but he wouldn’t go there. This was Tony, and Gibbs knew it would damage them.

He shoved his frustration and anger down and shook his head. “I don’t remember going there, Tony.”

~*~

Tony watched his lover carefully, the play of emotions on his face, the way Gibbs seemed uncertain, worried, nervous. Fallible. And that scared Tony more than anything else. There was a wrongness to Gibbs right now, a lack of confidence that was unnatural.And when he spoke the words, Tony believed him. Gibbs wasn’t bullshitting him; he genuinely didn’t remember.

Tony backed away, sitting on the couch and patting the cushions beside him. Before Gibbs could sit down, Tony got up and grabbed a beer, popping the top. Coffee might be Gibbs’ relaxation drink of choice, but Tony’s was beer.

He took a long pull of his beer and settled back down on the couch. After a moment, Gibbs settled next to him. He was jumpy, his body twitching, tension radiating off him. And it went even deeper than the team being hurt, something had rattled Gibbs deeply.

Before Tony addressed that, he wanted to answer Gibbs’ question. “Probie got lucky. If Kate hadn’t been there…” Tony left that unfinished. “Abby’s resting?”

“Duck’s with her. Agents are on the way. Protection detail.”

“Good,” Tony said quietly, watching as Gibbs’ hand tightened on the coffee and he took a long sip with a grunt.

Tony leaned in close, allowing his shoulder to rub against Jethro’s. He wanted to hug the other man, but he knew Gibbs would bristle at the comfort right now. He was just too jumpy. “I saw you car at the Navy Yard. You were there, Jethro. What do you remember?”

Gibbs stiffened. “GW hospital. I left, started for home, talked to Morrow, then…” He jerked his head toward the coffee cup. “The 7-11 on the corner.”

“You been losing chunks of time a lot lately?” Tony gulped down a couple of swallows of beer, wishing it was something harder. “Not eating right either.”

“Know,” Gibbs acknowledged, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I want you to talk to Ducky when this is over.”

Gibbs opened his mouth, clearly able to argue the point, when something happened. It was as if a haze came over his eyes, clouding the man Tony knew inside. His face twisted into a snarl and Tony’s stomach clenched. But before he could react, it was gone, leaving Gibbs looking old, tired, and defeated.

“Come to bed,” Tony said quietly, trying to silence the screaming of his gut.

~*~

He couldn’t help smiling as Tony tried to comfort Gibbs. Jethro’s fear and anger could feed him for months—if not years. It was wonderful seeing him so stressed. He wished he dared to rub his hands, knowing he was taking chances. He was just unable to hide his glee.

After only a few hours of sleep, Gibbs would be even further on edge, his emotions all over the place, his thought processes flawed. And then he’d strike hard, taking the doctor and his assistant out, and when Gibbs was reeling, Tony would be history as well.

And then the rage and fury and heartbreak would overwhelm Gibbs. He couldn’t wait to see it. To feed off it.

As Tony urged Gibbs to come to bed, he couldn’t help but smile from his vantage point. Enjoy it, this will be your last night together!

~*~

Even though Tony was exhausted, he couldn’t sleep. After tossing and turning for forty-five minutes, he finally eased out of bed, setting into the chair Gibbs usually used when dressing in the morning. Gibbs was almost close enough to touch, but Tony didn’t dare disturb him. He was sleeping now, and that was most important.

Gibbs looked exhausted, the shadows under his eyes half moon bruises. He looked unhealthy, his skin tone a little closer to gray than Tony was comfortable with. And this memory loss thing was worrying Tony as deeply as the attacks on the team.

Could they all be connected? Tony closed his eyes, shaking his head.

No…Gibbs wouldn’t hurt the team. That was impossible!

Tony wrapped his arms around his torso, the cool night seeping into his soul.

“Tony? Hey, Tony. C’mon, gotta get to work, its almost oh eight hundred.” The gentle hand on his shoulder and the light way Gibbs was shaking him was familiar and comforting. Tony cracked his eyes open, looking at the nude form of his lover.

“Fell asleep?” he asked, trying to clear his mind.

“Yeah. Let ya sleep as long as I could,” Gibbs replied over his shoulder. Tony spent a minute drinking in the view before he yawned, stretching.

“Any news?” Tony asked, padding into the bathroom and flipping on the shower. The bathroom was still steamy and the hot water began pouring out. Gibbs followed him into the bathroom, watching appreciatively as Tony took his clothes off, stretching again.

“Abby slept through the night. She wants to work. McGee’s on the way home, off work for a week. Kate wants to stay with him and take the day and I okayed it. Duck and Abby’ll be in a little later. Palmer will be in until Ducky gets there, then he has classes this afternoon.” Gibbs motioned to the shower. “Make it quick.”

Tony shaved and showered quickly, dressing and making his way to the kitchen in record time. “Any idea what caused Abby to get into the accident?” he asked his lover, who looked deep in thought and he was clutching his cell phone.

“Brake line was cut,” Gibbs replied grimly. “Got a call while you were showering. Palmer. Something went haywire in Autopsy and he was shocked. Shoulda been electrocuted. Called us all off work today. Not safe.”

Gibbs paused, meeting Tony’s eyes, his expression as grave as Tony had ever seen it. “Everyone, including Palmer, is on the way here. We’ll hole up here, with guards on the house, and try to figure it out.”

Tony just stared at his lover, remembering the fact that Gibbs didn’t remember that he’d been at the Navy Yard last night. The disappearances yesterday, the way he knew he’d heard Gibbs snicker. The fact that he’d thought he’d seen Gibbs at the range when Kate’s gun had jammed.

One of Gibbs’ rules was not to believe in coincidences. And Tony didn’t. Gibbs was involved in this. Or participating, or even running this thing, Tony wasn’t sure which.

Suddenly, an icy wash of air rushed over Tony, chilling him to the soul. It was the only warning he had before Gibbs attacked.

~*~  
Gibbs could see what was happening, but he had no control over his body. Suddenly someone—something—was in control, and he was shoved back into a passive part of his psyche as he launched himself at Tony, going for his throat.

NO!

He tried to claw his way back into control, but whatever was using his body wouldn’t relinquish control. But Tony was fighting back, punching a hand into his kidneys, pushing back.

And then he slowly gained the advantage. The hand around Tony’s throat began to loosen and Tony was on him with a growl. A few sharp jabs to the side of the head disoriented Gibbs—and whatever was controlling him—enough for Tony to get the upper hand.

And in a move Gibbs would have cheered if he could, Tony’d handcuffed him. Gibbs fought whatever it was, as the being struggled for control, kicking and growling, trying to strike out at Tony.

“Don’t make me hurt him,” Tony panted out. One strong punch to the stomach knocked the wind out of him, and Gibbs managed to drop to the ground in a controlled manner, cushioning his fall.

He had to help Tony any way he could. And even though Gibbs balked at hurting himself, he banged his head against the floor, hard enough to gray out.

~*~

Tony’d perfected the art of pacing. Three steps in one direction, pivot, three steps in another. After he’d secured Gibbs with his cuffs as well as the ones he’d taken from Gibbs, as well as some rope, he’d called Ducky and asked him to get here as fast as he could, that Gibbs was in a bad way.

Emergency, he’d said.

He couldn’t possibly tell Ducky what had happened over the phone. How Gibbs’ eyes had glowed red. RED! Gibbs’ entire expression had twisted into something unrecognizable, and Tony had known his lover was only a passenger on the train barreling into him.

With intent.

To kill.

Tony had seen the look before, in the eyes of killers. Never in the eyes of his lover. Sure, Gibbs wasn’t lily white, but he would never hurt the team. Gibbs wasn’t in control of himself, and they had to fix him.

Gibbs’ eyes opened slowly and he groaned, eyes flicking over to Tony. The relief in his expression was pure Gibbs, and Tony breathed out a sigh.

“Was it me?” Gibbs asked quietly, but it was clear from his voice that he knew.

“Not you,” Tony insisted, moving closer and brushing a hand over Gibbs’ face. “But there’s something forcing you to do it.”

Gibbs’ sigh reverberated throughout the room. “What’s the plan?”

“We get whatever it is gone.”

“What if we can’t? I have to be neutralized.”

“No! Don’t!” Tony lightly gripped his lover’s face, staring into his eyes. “He. Will. Not. Win.” It was an eerie echo to the way Gibbs had ordered Tony to live a few years ago and they both shivered.

“I’m not giving up on you,” Tony insisted quietly. “Everybody is in transit. Ducky and Abby will know something. We’ll figure it out.”

Gibbs nodded, then stared out into the room. “Tony, I have some medication, some valium…I….” His eyes flashed and all of a sudden he was thrashing and trying to break the bonds, teeth snapping and nearly connecting with the fingers Tony wrenched away.

It had happened that fast….and it scared the hell out of Tony. He reached in, yanking Gibbs’ knife out of his pocket, thankful that Gibbs didn’t have his weapon. Summer camp had given Tony some great knot-tying skills, but he didn’t want to stake his life on it.

His and the lives of the team.

“Tony?” Abby’s voice, tired and reedy, filtered in. He’d only given Ducky the basics, that something was wrong with Gibbs. And it was clear that Ducky hadn’t told Abby even that. As the body in front of him thrashed and growled, Tony blocked the doorway. Abby didn’t need to see this!

But she pushed through, stumbling to a stop, hands clapping over her mouth. “Tony, he’s tied up. Why?” Her pale green eyes were overly wide and Tony pulled her close. He couldn’t figure out who was shaking worse.

It was clear Gibbs wasn’t Gibbs right now. His eyes were bright red and his movements were filled with rage. Growling, snarling, snapping, he was more animal than human at the moment.  
“Don’t make me hurt him again,” Tony said to the thing inside Gibbs, hugging Abby tight. He put a restraining hand up when Ducky walked in. Nobody else was going to be hurt by this thing. Nobody was going to get close enough for it to attack them.

“Gibbs! Gibbs is in there? He’s in there, isn’t he, Tony? Tell me! Tell me he’s in there.”

“He’s in there,” Tony confirmed. Gibbs shuddered and went still.

“Valium,” he rasped. “Or something stronger. Duck… Sedate me.”

“No. No medications,” Ducky said, his voice strong and firm. “This reminds me of a time when I was in Hungary and—“

“Not now Ducky!” Was that really Tony’s voice? So on edge, so tight. Almost hysterical.

“Tony, I’ve dealt with this before!”

“You have?”

“Yes.” Ducky’s voice was firm and clear. He motioned to the door. “Tony, Abby, I need you to trust me. Leave me to this. I will not get within touching distance.”

“No, Ducky.”

“Do it, Tony. Please…” Gibbs rarely said “please,” and the tone in his voice shattered Tony into a million pieces.

He let go of Abby and crossed into the living room, going into the gun safe and pulling his weapon out. “I’ll stay back, but I’m covering you, Ducky.”

“Good, Tony. Very good. Now, Abby, I need you to sit down out of its line of sight. And none of you make extended eye contact. We don’t want it to take a target of opportunity and jump into one of us now.”

Just as Ducky settled in to begin the ritual, Kate, McGee, and Palmer arrived. They stood in a tight knot near Abby, McGee and Kate aiming their weapons in Gibbs’ direction. Tony wondered if they could bring themselves to pull the triggers if the thing inside Gibbs attacked Ducky.

Tony stood silently, aiming his gun at his lover, as Ducky went through a complicated ritual for over an hour. There were candles, chants, incantations—some Abby had to look up online—and a drop of Tony’s blood. Gibbs screamed, cried, thrashed, lashed out. He was covered in sweat, in flecks of his own blood.

He was Gibbs—yet he wasn’t. Ducky had been chipping away at the thing’s defenses, with chants and incantations. Then, suddenly, Ducky sat on the ground, almost within touching distance. It was too close for comfort, and Tony’s hand tightened on his gun.

“What is your name? Where did you come from?” Ducky’s voice was patient, compassion written all over his face. He’d be a sitting duck if the thing broke its bonds and went for him.

“Josiah.” Gibbs’ voice had taken on a belligerent tone.

“Good to meet you, Josiah. What business do you have with my friend Jethro?”

Tony almost bit out a sharp comment, but a restraining arm by Palmer helped to refocus him. Tony didn’t agree with Ducky’s methods, but he seemed to know what he was doing thus far. At least the thing—and Gibbs by extension—had been responding.

“Rage. Anguish.” Gibbs’ mouth turned up in a maniacal smile and Tony shuddered. “I haven’t been able to kill since the fifties. Seventy-two bodies before then.” The thing in Gibbs puffed up his chest, projecting pride, and Tony wanted to vomit.

“Damn fool Mike Gordon went and got himself paralyzed. His medicine kept me prisoner for all these years. No more! Thank god they stopped the drugs and I got into his grandkid before he died.”

Gordon! The name rang a bell for Tony. They’d wrapped a case last week where a Petty Officer Gordon had died in Rock Creek. Gibbs had gotten sick when he’d checked over the body. It had been so unlike Gibbs that the moment was etched in Tony’s memory.

He mentally ran through the case. It had been ruled suicide. Had Gordon killed himself because he’d seen no way out? Tony shuddered, wanting to wrap his arms around his torso. But he didn’t dare pull his visual focus away from Gibbs. To do so could be to sentence him and Ducky to death, and that wasn’t gonna happen. Not on Tony’s watch.

“Josiah, I’m afraid its time for you to go.”

Ducky was good, Tony realized. He actually believed Ducky cared about this demon.

“No! I need his rage! It fuels me!”

Now Tony had an inkling why Gibbs had been chosen. Gibbs had been the lucky target of opportunity, but his personality had attracted the demon as well. He’d been snapping at the team just before checking the body.

“Begone!” Ducky waved a cross in Gibbs’ direction and the other man’s body bowed, convulsing, Abby screamed, Kate gasped, and Palmer moaned, a low, mournful sound that tore through the room.

Finally—finally—Gibbs slumped forward and breeze ripped through the house, slamming open doors closed and scattering the mail onto the kitchen floor. Abby started to move forward, but Tony shook his head. He didn’t trust this yet.

“It’s done,” Ducky said quietly. He blotted his forehead, wiping away some of the perspiration that had accumulated. Ducky was as rumpled as he ever got, sweat staining patches of his wrinkled shirt.

“What happens now?” Tony asked, moving in closer. He wanted to believe Ducky, but how could they be sure.

“Now he sleeps it off. If you feel more comfortable with him restrained, let’s get him more settled at least, shall we? Perhaps the sofa?”

Tony nodded and lifted Gibbs from the floor, settling him gently on the couch in the living room. As he reached for a blanket, Gibbs shivered and pressed close, and Tony stroked his hair. “It’s okay. Ducky fixed it.”

Gibbs’ eyes opened and he stared into Tony’s eyes. There was something unidentifiable that told Tony his lover was back with him.

“It’s done?” Gibbs asked, his voice raspy.

“It’s done. Sleep it off. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The end!

And the prompt that inspired this fic:  
Prompt 1: Possession: Tony or Gibbs has been possessed by a malevolent entity (ghost, demon, etc), and no one seems to be the wiser, though Tony or Gibbs seems to be suspicious (who depends on who's being possessed). Can be established relationship or first time. No non-con. Happy ending not necessary, though greatly encouraged!


End file.
